Beautiful Mess

Ok, we all have guilty pleasures.    Things we are embarrassed to admit in mixed company. 

Here are some of mine:

*The Hills

*Keeping Up With the Kardashians (because this flat-ass girl is intrigued by such nice big shapely asses). 

*The Bachelor (this is probably the one I’m most ashamed about)

*UsWeekly

*Cheetos

*Cold Stone Cake Batter Ice Cream with oreos and caramel

*Purse parties (ie fake bags)

*Smutty romance novels (as long as Fabio is not on the cover)

*Sleeping in the nude

*The hip abductor/adductor machines at the gym (it just feels good)

*Singing at the top of my lungs in the car (seriously, I’m good)

That’s all I can think of right now.

So what are yours?

So as I’ve said before, B and I are doing this biggest loser couples edition weight loss competition against my mom and stepdad.  We just finished up our first week.

I was getting frustrated with B because he didn’t seem to be modifiying his eating habits.  During the first week I know he had pizza at least twice, I personally saw him eating a ginormous burrito, and his friend Ben told me that he has not been behaving (food-wise) at work.  So I was kinda riding his ass like Zorro. 

Meanwhile, I was really trying to eat healthier foods.  I spent nearly twice as much as I normally do at the grocery store stocking up on fruits and a vegetable.  And other good choices.  I (following the advice of SELF) made salad dressing with cornstarch-thickened vegetable stock instead of oil (that one needs some work - it was not so tasty).  I made chocolate cupcakes using pumpkin to replace the oil and eggs (also not that great because the texture was off and there was no frosting).  Certainly I was eating perfectly (no thanks to Cold Stone), but I was trying. 

We weigh in on Thursdays, so when B and I were eating dinner on Sunday night (me eating a Thai Salad, B eating a huge cheesy burrito), I very casually asked him what his weight loss plan was going to be for the week.  He told me that he was going to give up drinking soda at work.

I sat there quietly, nodding my head encouragingly, waiting for the rest of his plan.  But no, that was his entire plan.   Um….we are not going to be winning any competition with him just giving up soda, I thought.  But I kept it to myself because I didn’t want to nag him.

But in my head I was all self-righteous.  I am trying to eat healthier, to lose weight.  Clearly I am going to have to carry this team.  Maybe if I can get off to a good start, B will get his act together. 

B and his no soda for 4 days?  Lost 5 pounds.  Me?  1.8. 

Yeah.  Guess I’ll shut up and just worry about myself. 

Oh, and perusing cooking blogs with beautiful food pictures all day every day while in self-deprivation mode?  Is torture.   But I’m just that kind of girl. 

Today I had a conversation with my friend Jaded that really bothered me.  That is not an unusual occurrence with Jaded, but this one bothered me more so than the others. 

She says she wants to die young.  Now, she never did tell me what she considered young.  But she kept saying “retirement age”, but that is still a pretty large range.  She figures that once she is no longer “useful”, she doesn’t want to be around anymore. 

I think that is a pretty insulting way of looking at retirement-aged and older people.     Also?  I think it is a slap in the face to all the people (at any age) who died before they felt it was their time.  Case in point - my grandfather died when he was sixty-nine.  He was diagnosed with lung cancer, had surgery, and died within 6 months.  Prior to his diagnosis he played golf everyday, went out fishing on his boat frequently, loved to play games, goofed around in church, and was pretty social.  We all loved to spend time with him - he was strong, he was fit, he was fun, he was smart, he had a sense of humor.  He loved life, and he always had a twinkle in his eyes.  His life was not sad or wasted or lonely.  Even now, eight years later, I cry on the spot everytime I think about the last time I said good-bye to him.     He was not ready to go, and we certainly were not ready for him to go.

Of course, I know that things get worse for people as they get older.  And some stories are much much sadder.  Some people die alone and lonely in nursing homes.  Some go slowly with diseases like Alzheimers.  Many people live for years with a very poor quality of life.  I get that. 

But to make a blanket statement that you want to die young because you don’t want to get old and no longer be useful?   I don’t know, it just seemed kind of…..luxurious to me.

So B and I took Friday off and went to DC for a long weekend. My mom, stepdad and sister live there, so we stayed with them. B planned the weekend because his Cubs were playing the Nats at their new stadium, so my mom got tickets through work for Friday and Saturday nights’ games.  Initially my mom had just gotten tickets for the Saturday game.  I had already told B, no, we are not going to both games - there are plenty of other things to do in DC, but my mom was really worried the game on Saturday would get rained out, so she got tickets for Friday so poor little B wouldn’t have to go an entire trip with no baseball.

Following is a bit of conversation between my mom and I at the game.  Keep in mind that my sister and I played softball for years, so she is not new to softball/baseball games.  But it has been a long time.  Here you go:

(Mom was complaining that baseball games are boring, and one of the Nats just got the first home run of the game):

Mom:  Oh, FINALLY somebody got a home run.

Me:  Mom, it is only the bottom of the first inning.

Mom:  Still, I’ve been waiting forever.  Hockey is way more exciting than this.

(And here, in about the 3rd or 4th inning):

Mom:  Hey, [J], how long are the halfs?

Me:  Huh?  Ma, this is not being timed.  

Mom:  No, I mean, when is halftime?

Me:  Are you new or something?  This is BASEBALL, there is no halftime. 

Mom:  Oh, that’s right.  This really doesn’t move as fast as hockey.

Me:  Mother, enough about the hockey already!

Anyway, we had a good time.  This is the first time that B and my family have been able to spend any real time in each others’ company (and now that I think about it, it is also the most consecutive time he has ever spent in MY company).  I think it went well.  B is very easygoing, and he is easy to please.  The weather is beautiful, so we were able to do some sightseeing, which I’ve done before, but it is always nice to do again.   Also we did some Wii playing (tennis and bowling), and I’m ashamed to say that I am too out of shape even to play the Wii.  My tennis arm hurt for a couple of days, which is pretty pathetic for a girl who was the captain of and the top seeded player on her tennis team.  But hey, I’m not as young as I used to be.  What can you do.

B and I had some tense moments at the airport.  As I’ve mentioned before, we have very different traveling styles.  B is a nervous flier, and he likes to be at the airport at least 2 hours early.  I, on the other hand, prefer to go at the last minute (partly because I don’t want to sit there and wait and partly because I’m just always late, everywhere I go).  Usually when we travel, I just go along with B’s plan, because both times we have flown, he has paid for my flight with his miles, so I feel like I should accommodate him. 

But on Sunday afternoon, I was just running behind, and as I was trying to get ready, he kept telling me, “babe, we really need to go”.  The second time (as I was packing), I said, “what the hell do you think I’m doing here, just fucking around?”  And I didn’t use my nicest voice.  So I was kind of irritated.  When we got to the airport, through security, and sitting on the tram to take us to the other side of the airport to the gate, I told him “[f]or the record (we attorneys are always concerned about “the record”), I have never missed a flight.  Not ever.”  He, in turn, told me “I just don’t like to cut it close….for the record.”  He didn’t use his nicest voice either.    So I silent treatmented him for a while (I know, so mature).  I don’t think he minded.

But by the time we got on the plane, we were both over it.

In other news, B and I and my Mom and Stepdad decided to have a Biggest Loser Couples Edition competition between the four of us.  All of us would like to lose some weight and just be healthier in general, and wanted to have an incentive to do so.  So tomorrow it begins and it ends on Labor Day.  I’m not so much looking forward to it, but being a little slimmer for summer would not be a bad thing.  Today I lived it up and I had a burrito for lunch (and the other half for dinner) and then walked uptown for some Cold Stone.  Mmmmmmm. 

So now I’m trying to dream up some healthy meals to cook.  This is tricky, since I’m not crazy about a lot of vegetables.  I’m better than I used to be, but still not that great.  If any of you have ideas, I’d love to hear them. 

Hopefully this competition won’t cause problems for B and I.  Already he told me that he thinks I’m the weakest link (note - I just read through this post about 3 times before I realized I had that written as “linkest weak”) ,  because I don’t work out regularly like he does.  I asked him what was so great about working out 4-5 times a week and never losing any weight (like he does)?  How does that make him better than me?  But I think it will be ok.  He and I like to cook together on the weekends when I’m there, so we can work on making healthier choices and think of some fun physical activities to do together (besides the obvious, of course).   And if we win, we’ll have a little more cash in our pockets!  I’m ready to bring my A-game, and hopefully B is too.   

Anyway, Happy Thursday!

So last night I was up at B’s house.  Now, I don’t normally tell bedroom stories, and I’m still not really going to do so here, but B said something to me last night that had my heart pounding for a moment. 

So we had just finished up in the bedroom, and I had gone to the bathroom to clean up.  When I came back, I noticed a huge wet spot, on my side of course (he always comes over to my side, for that specific reason, I believe).  Anyway, I said something like, “damn it, B, look what you did”.  Not seriously mad, of course, I just like to give him shit about it. 

Anyway, here’s what he said:  The cat did it.

*Crickets*

So I’m sure most of you are thinking, what’s the big deal, right?  Well, for those of you who are reading Kara’s interview with other bloggers, you probably saw the interview she did with Markalan.   Well, the interview contained a link to a post that Markalan had written about a very funny bedroom incident in which he and his wife told their child that the cat had thrown up on the bed. 

Oh, and I should mention that B doesn’t have a cat.

So I thought of Markalan’s post when B said the cat did it, because I just read it last week.  I thought, OMG, he’s seen my blog.  Which is ridiculous, of course.  Because to even have seen that post, he would have to read my blog, and Kara’s, and Markalan’s.   So then I stopped freaking out in my head, because it just isn’t that probable.  I’m not even sure he knows that blogs exist.

But B?  If you are here?  Hi!  Love you!  Don’t go back and read the archives, k?

Hehe.

Random though, no?

I have a hard time allowing someone to take care of me.  It feels like giving in, somehow.  Like admitting that I can’t do it all, and showing my weakness(es). 

I’ve been having some car trouble for quite some time now, and have just been ignoring it.  I really detest spending money on car repairs, so if it isn’t literally broken, then I won’t fix it.  But it has been getting worse and worse, and B has been riding my ass like Zorro to get it fixed (incidentally, he is the type of guy who takes his car in to get looked at the minute his service engine soon light comes on.  Um…yeah, opposites attract, right?)  He explained the problem to his friend, who is a mechanic, and he basically said that it sounded like a problem wherein I can expect my wheel(s) to fall off sometime in the very immediate future.  Perfect.

So I had to get it fixed.  And for some reason, every time I think about getting my car fixed, I get immediately overwhelmed with the details - mostly, who do I take my car to?  As a woman, it is hard to trust a mechanic not to take advantage of my mechanical stupidity.  So B wanted me to bring my car up for his friend to fix.  This presents a few logistical problems, as he lives about 45 minutes away from me, and I need my car to get around. 

But I didn’t really have a choice, and I was already at B’s house on Sunday night, so we decided that I would take my car in to his friend on Monday morning, and then I would rent a car.  B wanted me to just drop him off at work and just take his car, but I really really didn’t want to inconvenience him.  I don’t like other people to be bothered with my problems.

But then we went to the rental car agency, and the representative asked me for my driver’s license and credit card.  And then I realized that I had left my driver’s license in my work bag, and I told the guy that.  “Are you serious?” asked B.  Um….yeah.  He clearly doesn’t know what it is like to have to switch bags all the time.  It is not easy, folks!

So anyway, he had to rent the car then, and I just took his car.  Off I went to work, and B called me with the diagnosis within about an hour and a half.   $1000 and a few hours later, I had a fixed car, so I had to drive back up to B’s so that we could do the car switcheroo again.

Anyway, not to make a short story long, but my point was that if I had just followed my instincts, I would have just went to the Honda dealer to get it fixed, figured out how to get from work from there, and probably paid twice as much to get it fixed.  And there would have been a lot of whining involved, I’m sure.  But nobody else would have had to deal with my problem.

But as much as I want to be perfect at taking care of myself, sometimes it feels nice to let someone lighten the load just a little bit, and make the problem solving easier.  And I think it made B feel good to be able to help me, because that is what loved ones are for. 

Once I read a guy’s profile on an online dating website that said something to the effect of “I am looking for a woman who will love me and who will allow me to love her.  It sounds so simple, but it really is hard to find a woman who will let herself be loved.” 

I didn’t quite understand it at the time (and I never emailed him because I thought he was out of my league looks-wise, right Kara?), but I think it is kind of the same thing that I’ve been talking about.  Women are so independent and self-sufficient these days, and have a hard time giving up a little bit of self-control and letting a guy in.  But everyone wants to feel like they are bringing something to the table in a relationship, so I think we (or at least I) need to ease up a little and let them show what they have to give.

Anyway.

On a wholly unrelated note, I still keep getting searches on my blog for “MollyElizabeth’s boobs” and now I got one for “Kara’s boobs”.  What gives?  I mean, I’m sure that Molly Elizabeth and Kara both have fantastic breasts, but you won’t find them here.  And I have to say, I’m a little jealous that you folks aren’t searching out my breasts.  This is my blog, people.  I’m just saying. 

So last night I ventured back to the gym.  I wish I could say that I’ve missed the gym after many months of abstaining from exercise, but that just isn’t the case.  But it was fine.  It was very quick, because I decided, in a total panic after stepping on the scale (which I have been avoiding as of late out of fear) to go to the gym only an hour before it closed (damn you, Biggest Loser for making me feel inspired!).  So I scrambled around, getting dressed and trying to remember everything I needed for my gym bag - water bottle, gym card, iPod, face towel, and took off.  Anyway, I did a quick little workout, and that was that.

Is it bad that the main reason I’m thinking about going back is that I when I got there I found that the gym had installed tvs at every machine?   Now I’m picturing myself settling in on the treadmill for three hours worth of Thursday night programming (as if, seriously).   Although I have my doubt that the other gym patrons really want to hear my weekly commentary/rant during episodes of the mysterious and utterly frustrating Lost.  And don’t even get me started on The Bachelor (seriously, ladies, keep your panties to yourself on date one).   But is it really so wrong that the only thing that could possibly get my lazy ass off of the couch and to the gym on a regular basis is my love of tv?

If it is wrong, then I don’t want to be right.  And maybe next time I’ll go back they’ll have cookies there, too.   Aahhh, a girl can dream.

Is it okay to think you are not beautiful?

I had a conversation with my friend Jaded today, and it is not unlike conversations that I’ve had with other people, and what I’m wondering is this:  If you don’t think you are beautiful does that automatically mean you have low self esteem?

I mean, let’s be fair, not everybody is beautiful (and I’m talking physical appearance here, folks).  Do we all agree on that?  In my vocabulary, words to describe physical appearance have a heirarchy - cute, pretty, beautiful.  Of course there are a lof of other adjectives that can be used to describe the same thing, but I think those are the most common.  Jaded told me she uses those three words interchangeably. 

Anyway, the conversation started when we were talking about bridesmaids.  I said I had been a bridesmaid 8 times.  She said, “you are just like the girl in that movie.”  Now, as much as I would like to pretend that I am Katherine Heigl, I’m not.  So I, predictably, said, “yeah, I’m just like her except that I’m not tall, thin and beautiful.”  She went on to say that I could be thin and beautiful. 

So I told her that I could be thinnER, yes, but I don’t ever imagine that I could be someone who is actually thin.  I just like cookies too much (and seriously, why do they have to be SO GOOD??).  But extra 20 pounds or no extra 20 pounds (ok, maybe more like 30), I would still not be beautiful.  It isn’t in the cards for me.  I would be cute at best.  And that is ok, not everyone is beautiful. 

So then immediately the conversation switched over to the “why do you do this to yourself, why are you so hard on yourself” crap.  But I like to think of it just as living in reality.  And I don’t think there is anything wrong with that. 

And yes, I understand the whole concept of beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  My mom and I often argue about who is beautiful and who is not.  Mostly I think people are, and she thinks they aren’t (ie Angelina Jolie - my mom thinks she is homely).    But even so, I think some people are undeniably beautiful and some are undeniably not. 

But now as I think about it, I’m starting to talk myself out of the whole thing.  Because probably everybody has someone who thinks they are beautiful, no?  But then again, just because my grandma thinks that I’m beautiful doesn’t mean that I am.  Love is blind, after all.

Anyway,  I don’t know.  But I just don’t think not thinking you are beautiful is necessarily cause for concern.  I don’t think it has to mean that you need to work on your self-esteem. 

Anyway.

Don’t you wish I had a real topic to discuss?

So I got a comment on my last post from Monkey, asking me if my relationship with B is fair.  She remembered that I was not happy when B wasn’t too understanding about my job and basically said, “either do something about it or quit bitching”.  And for the record, he said it in a much softer way, but that is how it sounded to my ears. 

So I thought about it.  Why do I feel sympathy for him when he has job issues, when he doesn’t really want to hear about mine?  Is this relationship one-sided?  But really, it isn’t that cut and dry.  The truth is that I have been bitching about my job since time immemorial.    I do need a new job.  And it isn’t just B that has told me that I shouldn’t complain if I am unwilling to change it - my mom and my friend Jaded tell me that all the time.  And in a much less kind manner than B.  But yes, I do get mad because I don’t want to hear it, but also I know that it is true.

Also, I think some of it can be attributed to the differences between men and women.  Men don’t necessarily want to talk something to death, they are more goal-oriented.  Cut right to the chase - what can you do to make this problem better.   I don’t think I would ever tell someone to quit bitching about something if they won’t do something about it - it just isn’t my nature.  So I would never suggest to B that he should quit whining, even though I might think it.     So I just listen and try to be understanding, and maybe suggest that it is time to get a new job.  Sometimes I wish he would stop complaining about it, but sometimes I feel bad for him because he is stressed out, and that is how I felt at the time I wrote the last post. 

Do I wish he would listen to my job complaints and be more understanding and sympathetic?  Sure.  That would be great.  I could go on and on and on if someone wanted to listen to me complain, but at some point that isn’t really helpful either. 

Our communication isn’t perfect, for sure.  But I think that is something most men and women struggle with, simply because (and I hope I’m not being a bad feminist and setting women back here) men and women are different.  Period.  

But in any case, I do appreciate women looking out for each other, and a little introspection is always good, so I wasn’t offended at all by the comment. 

Hello!

It has been about 2 weeks since my last post, but I have a fairly decent excuse.  My computer became hopelessly infected (yes, I know, that is why you should have anti-virus protection, I get it), and spending any amount of time on the internet required more patience than I have. 

Luckily, ManWhore gave me the hook-up.  Totally fixed my computer AND installed anti-virus software, so I am good as new.  Better actually. 

Of course, once he fixed my computer, ManWhore expected payment.  We agreed to meet at McDonalds so I could pick up my computer as I was driving through town, and I called him when I was close so he could come meet me.  Here is the conversation we had:

ManWhore (MW):  So I think you should blow me.

Me:  Ok, let’s do it at McDonalds.  You want to?

MW:  No, you can come to my house and just do it here.

Me:  But I thought your house was off limits?  I’m getting confused about the rules, MW.  (As you recall, he told me he laid the “ground rules” for High School girl, and this was one of them).

MW:  J, those rules don’t apply to you.  There are no rules when it comes to you.

Me:  Oh, so of all your lady friends, I am really special?

MW:  You know I’d break all the rules for you.  Just you.

Me:  Mmhmm.  Riiiiiiight.  Yeah, no thanks.  I’ll see you at McDonalds in ten minutes.

Nice try, ManWhore.

Oh, yeah, and speaking of which, I did end up emailing back HS Girl and telling her how I knew ManWhore, and said a bunch of nice things about him.  But then I told her that for all of his good qualities, ManWhore is not boyfriend material.   (I told him exactly what I said and told him “no offense” and he said, “it’s ok, I’m not”). 

Then get this, she emailed me back and said, “Thanks for telling me that MW isn’t good boyfriend material, but you didn’t tell me why.”  Um….HELLO!  Did she miss the part about him having a live-in girlfriend?  Who he cheats on ALL THE TIME?!?  Seriously, I was too disgusted even to respond. 

Hmmm……what else has been going on the last couple of weeks…..

Not much, really.  Same shit, different day.  Had a nice Easter with my family.  B didn’t come with me because he went to visit his family.  Even though I don’t see him that much, whenever Saturday rolls around, I really miss him if we’re not together.  More and more I wish that we could spend more time together.  I feel like we are sort of stuck where we are at.  It is hard to get closer when we only see each other once a week.  And though we talk everyday, it just isn’t the same as actually putting in time together and seeing how it goes to be more involved with each other’s day to day. 

Just last night he was talking to me about some trouble he is having at work and how it has been affecting him for a few months.  Obviously we have discussed this many times, but I didn’t know how much it was really still bothering him.  I just wanted to put my arms around him and BE there with him.  But I wasn’t.  But we aren’t ready to live together yet, so I’m not really sure how to sort of move it along. 

I think he feels the same way.  Of course, I have to guess, because as we all know, B is not too great at communicating his feelings.  But now when I leave his house every weekend, he kisses me a little bit longer and hugs me a little bit harder and always tries to get me to stay longer.   I don’t know, I just know that it is hard to feel like a REAL couple when we don’t get to be part of each other’s daily routine.

Anyway, sorry for the absence these last couple of weeks.  I’ve been struggling for a while trying to have something to say that is worth writing about.  I haven’t yet managed to find a way to make the mundane fun to read about.  I’m no Seinfeld, I guess.